


Just Bruises

by LogicGunn



Series: Just Bruises [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Rodney McKay Whump, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: What happened in the three hours Rodney was missing?





	Just Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't intend to write a 6k Rodney Whump fic, it was supposed to be a cutesy little shower fic, but it just took off in another direction.
> 
> WARNING:  
> There is a brief description of the Whump at the end of the fic. Please read it if there are any things you prefer to avoid.

Atlantis has two armories. The Primary Armory (where all the really cool and dangerous WMD’s are kept) is located beneath the water line in the Central Control Tower. It’s considered the highest privilege to be allocated guard duty of the Primary Armory, so Major John Sheppard uses it as a reward for good behaviour by the marines. He’s always preferred the carrot to the stick. 

The Secondary Armory (commonly dubbed the Ready Room) where gate teams gear up and security teams arm and disarm is located three floors below the Gate Room and immediately above the personal lab of Dr M. Rodney McKay. Thankfully Atlantis’ floors and ceilings are fully soundproofed; if they weren’t you can be sure the whole expedition would have heard about it. Repeatedly. 

Just off the Secondary Armory is a communal shower room, ten stalls enclosed by panels of a transparent alloy that have a convenient frosted stripe at hip level. Rodney McKay has never, ever, showered in the communal shower room. After each mission he stores his tac vest, weapons and life signs detector, and hightails it to his own room to shower and change before heading to the debrief, to which he usually arrives first. John has never asked him about it, Rodney has never mentioned it, and Ford and Teyla pretend not to care or notice respectively (except for that one time Ford had made a joke about hereditary deformities which had sent Rodney fleeing the room in his unzipped tac vest, put a disapproving frown on Teyla’s face, and forced John to have words with Ford about _team cohesion_ and _keeping the civilians on side_ and _Just don’t be a dick Ford, okay?)_. John and Ford are pretty skilled at keeping their eyes directed anywhere but Teyla’s chest, but Athosians have fewer hang-ups about nudity so Teyla considers this to be as quaint an alien custom as Rodney’s private showering. 

So, after their visit to the quiet and uninhabited M3X-577, where Rodney had vanished in the blink of an eye, only to show up again _ three hours later _ stumbling down the side of a mountain looking a little dishevelled and a lot hypoglycaemic, John, Ford and  Teyla hit the showers, and John doesn’t think much of it when Rodney slips out of the Ready Room. 

“John, Aiden, I am worried about Rodney,” says Teyla, fingers scrubbing shampoo into her scalp. “It is unlike him not to tell us where he was.” 

John turns towards her just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye but no more, and rinses the soap suds off his arms. “With McKay it’s better not to push, we’ll find out at the debrief.” 

“He’s probably embarrassed, sir, since we called out the Marines to find him,” says Ford, grabbing a towel and heading to his locker. “He got lost is all. Now he’s being a baby about it.” 

This irks John, partly because it’s Rodney, and partly because it’s one thing for a marine to rib a fellow marine but it’s another thing entirely to diss a civilian, even behind their back. “McKay has a dartboard in his office, Ford. He tapes his ‘Military Moron of the Day’ on it. I really don’t want to see your face up there.” 

“That’s a little inappropriate of him, don’t you think sir?” says Ford, pulling on his boxers. 

“Speaking of inappropriate, do we need to talk about Airianna, Lieutenant?” replies John as he rinses off his hair. He knows this is a low blow, but he can’t help himself. 

“Uhm... Airianna, sir?” says Ford, blushing. 

“The blow-up doll that lives in the Marine rec room store cupboard?” 

“Uh...no, sir,” says Ford, dropping his eyes to his belt buckle. 

“So ease up on the Doc,” growls John. 

“Yes sir.” 

“What is a blow-up-doll?” asks Teyla. 

_Oh, hell no, I am far too naked for this conversation._ John wraps his towel round his waist and steps out of the shower. “This one’s all yours, Lieutenant.” 

They head to the debrief, Ford avoiding eye contact with Teyla, but Rodney isn’t there yet. Elizabeth’s seated at the table, writing in a notepad. She’s old-fashioned like that; she likes to get her thoughts and notes down by hand before writing up her reports on her laptop. One of the crates they brought from Earth had been full of office supplies. General Landry had vetoed it, believing it an unnecessary indulgence, until all the power including the backup generators had been disrupted in the mountain when Bill Lee tried to tweak the Dialing Computer; the system overloaded and blew all the relays in the base. A week’s worth of paperwork, including the backups, had been lost, and Elizabeth’s stationary request had been approved. 

“John, Teyla, Aiden, have a seat. Rodney isn’t here yet but let’s start without him.” 

John’s troubled by that. “Maybe I should go get him?” he says. 

“I’m not going to write him up for being late to a debrief, and I have a meeting scheduled in an hour. So, M3X-577. Can anyone tell me what happened?” begins Elizabeth. 

They tell her how Rodney had been right next to them in the middle of a meadow one second and gone the next; how they’d looked for him in the chest high grass in a standard search pattern and called in the Marines for extra manpower after half an hour; how Sergeant Stackhouse had found him stumbling down the side of a mountain three klicks North East of their original position two and a half hours later; how he’d been a little disorientated but generally unharmed; how he’d been fine on the trip home. John doesn’t tell her how his annoyance turned to fear, and fear turned increasingly to dread with each minute that passed and still no Rodney. 

“So what do we think, beaming technology? Crevasse? Trap door?” asks Elizabeth. 

“There were no life signs according to Dr McKay, and no geological events while we were there,” says Teyla. 

“I don’t think it’s likely he crawled three kilometers through prairie grass and up the side of a mountain,” says John. If he’s getting a little snarky it’s only because they’ve been here for nearly an hour and Rodney still hasn’t shown up. 

“Well then, I guess we’re just going to have to wait for Rodney to tell us,” says Elizabeth. “Speaking of, maybe you could check up on him, John?” 

“Yeah, I’m on it.” 

***

Rodney’s not in his room, the mess hall, or the labs. None of the other scientists have seen or heard from him since they got back. John’s about to reconvene the marines to search Atlantis when Chuck tells him that he __ _ “saw _ _ Dr McKay re-enter the Ready Room an hour ago, sir, maybe he’s still there?”  _

When John enters the armory, he hears a shower running. No other teams have returned from off world since they got back, so it is most likely Rodney in the shower. He hesitates, knowing an intrusion would be awkward at best, distressing at worst, but Rodney’s disappeared on him twice in one day now and he’s a little concerned and starting to get pissed off. 

“McKay!” he bangs on the door to the shower room but there’s no answer. “McKay! I’m coming in!” 

Rodney’s in the shower furthest from the door. When John peers through the faux-glass his irritation instantly turns to stomach churning horror. Rodney’s forearms are braced on the back wall, his head resting against them, the water running down his back.  _ Jesus...fuck...his back. _ He’s covered in bruises; groups of three, four, five little ones clumped together, all down his arms, either side of his back, his ass, his thighs. 

John opens the shower. “Hey buddy, how’s it going?” 

Rodney doesn’t respond, so John turns off the water, grabs the towel hanging outside and gently wraps it round his waist. 

“McKay...what happened?” 

“John?” 

“What’s with the bruises?” 

Rodney frowns and looks at his arms. “I…I’m not sure.” 

“Okay, c’mon, let’s get you to the infirmary.” 

He turns the scientist around to lead him out of the shower, but there are more bruises on his front. Little ones all over his chest. Like something had been pressing between his ribs all over his rib cage. _Pressing...shit._ He realises what the little bruises are. Finger prints, mapped out all over Rodney’s body. He’s seen similar bruises before, on new recruits after hazing gone too far, but these are worse, these were made with _intent._

John taps his earpiece. “Sheppard to Beckett.” 

“Major? What can I do for you?” 

“I need you to come to the Ready Room. Just you. Bring a med kit. I’ll explain when you get here. “ 

“I’m on my way.” 

He guides Rodney out of the shower to sit on the bench in the middle of the room. 

“Okay buddy, change of plans, Dr Beckett is on his way down. He’s gonna take a look at you right here and everything is going to be fine.” John keeps his voice steady, even though he can feel a growing rage at the thought of someone, or someones, deliberately and methodically hurting his geek. 

“My shower wasn’t working,” says Rodney. 

“Is that why you came back here?” 

“I think it’s a problem with the pump. But I was late for the debrief so I didn’t have time to fix it.” 

“That’s okay buddy. We’ll get someone on that.” 

Rodney is clearly falling into shock. John grabs another towel from the basket and tucks it round Rodney’s shoulders, then crouches down in front of him and rubs his hands over the towel on his back, chest and arms, taking care not to press down too hard. 

The door to the shower room opens, Rodney doesn't notice but John turns to speak, only it isn’t Dr Beckett, it’s Sergeant Bates, whose eyes widen when he sees them. 

“This really isn’t a good time, Sergeant,” growls John, hands pausing on Rodney’s arms. 

“Sorry, sir...my shower is out,” stammers Bates. “I’ll just, uh, I’ll just be going, sir...I’ll come back later.” 

As Bates turns sharply and leaves, Beckett arrives. 

“All right gentlemen, what’s the problem.” 

“Rodney, we’re just going to show Dr Beckett your bruises, alright?” 

Rodney nods and John stands and takes the towel from around his shoulders. 

“What in the blazes happened to him?!” gasps Beckett. 

“I don’t know Doc.” 

“I don't know isn’t good enough!” Beckett approaches Rodney and snaps on vinyl gloves as he eyes the bruises. “Those aren’t run-of-the-mill scuffs, they’re deliberate!” 

“I know, I know...Jesus. He went missing on the mission...took us a few hours to find him. He seemed unharmed, just...” 

Becket puts his fingers under Rodney’s jaw to tilt it but Rodney flinches at the contact. 

“Let me see you Lad,” soothes Beckett, but Rodney lets out a barely audible whine and pulls back. 

John crouches back down and looks him in the eye. “C’mon buddy, the doc needs to have a look at you.” 

“No! No no no no no!” 

“Rodney, look at me.” Rodney does. “You’re safe. I’ll be right here the whole time. The Doc needs to check you over.” 

Rodney looks miserable, but he relents. His discomfort is clear and John’s rage goes critical when Beckett stands Rodney up, towel clutched in front of him for modesty, to look at his hips and ass. The bruises on his hips are distinctively hand shaped, thumbs dug into hip bones, fingers curled round towards his back. And now that he’s looking, really looking, he can see hand marks around his wrists and ankles. He was held down. By multiple people. _Fuck._

“Rodney, can you tell me where these bruises came from?” asks Beckett, replacing the towel around his waist. 

Rodney doesn’t even look at Beckett, he keeps his eyes on John. John, his team leader, the team leader he trusts to keep him safe off world,  _ who fucking  _ _ lost _ __ _ him _ _ in the field,  _ who  _ totally fucking missed _ that he was hurting when he was found, who Rodney still seems to trust implicitly. 

“Rodney?” Beckett asks again, even gentler than before. He sighs at Rodney’s silence. “Okay, we’re not going to get anywhere here, Major. Let’s get him dressed and to the Infirmary.” 

***

As they exit the armory, John hears voices coming from the corridor. 

“...can’t enter the armory at this time.” It’s Bates, standing guard over the door to the Ready Room. Security Team Beta is there to arm themselves for their shift. John has never been one to stand on ceremony, but there must be something showing on his face; every single member of the Beta team immediately comes to attention when they see him. 

Bates falls into formation behind them, escorting them to the infirmary room where Beckett goes to his office and Bates takes position outside the examination room, hand on his side arm. 

Rodney sits on the bed. He doesn’t seem to be aware of John, who leans against the door frame. The silence is starting to get to John. Rodney is not a quiet  man; he is uninhibitedly loud in everything he does and John only realises how fond he is of Rodney’s constant commentary is now that it’s AWOL. Becket appears and gestures John out of the room and into his office. He takes a seat and John leans against the desk and crosses his arms. “Major, I’m planning to give him a sedative, but I’ve asked Kate to come up, I think she should try to talk to him first.” 

“That’s a good idea Doc, he’s keeps regular appointments with her, he might feel more comfortable telling her what happened.” 

“To be honest, I think he’s far more comfortable with you, but we’re going to need her expertise. What happened on the mission? You said he went missing?” 

“Yeah. He was there, then he wasn’t. We searched, got a team out, but we didn’t find him for three hours.” 

Becket taps his fingers on the desk. “A lot can happen in three hours,” he says quietly. 

“I know.” 

“Are we sure it happened off world?” 

“You think it happened here?” 

“I’ve been working for the military a long time, Major. I’ve seen similar bruising before.” 

John grimaces. “None of my men would haze a civilian Doc.” 

“No, I didn’t think so, but I had to check.” 

“Besides, the bruises on his chest don’t look incidental. The rest, maybe, but those were inflicted with precision.” John pauses, he knows he has to bring this up but it’s not easy. “I have to ask, Doc…” 

“Yeah, I’m ahead of you there. I’ll do a rape kit as soon as Kate’s done. For what it’s worth, my initial examination didn’t show any obvious signs, and there usually are, especially considering that whatever happened, Rodney clearly struggled against it.” 

Teyla and Ford arrive, and John is grateful for the interruption. He’s finding it hard to keep calm. 

“Chuck radioed us, sir, told us to come to the infirmary,” explains Ford. 

“Is Rodney unwell?” asks Teyla. 

Beckett looks at John. Neither of them come out and say it, but John knows they’re both thinking the same thing; someone tortured Rodney. “Not exactly…” he begins. 

Elizabeth walks in, breathless. “Is everything ok? Chuck said…” 

“There’s been an incident,” says Beckett. 

John leaves Beckett to explain and returns to the examination room. Looking through the door he sees Dr Heightmeyer sitting on a chair next to Rodney, talking in soft tones. Rodney’s shoulders are slumped and he looks lost, confused. 

Bates turns his head towards him and hesitates. 

“Something wrong Sergeant?” asks John. 

“I’m not asking, sir, and I absolutely did not see anything that needs to be reported,” begins Bates, sotto voce. 

“Sergeant….” John is not having this conversation, especially not with Bates. 

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” interrupts Bates, and he seems so sincere that John feels himself relax against his better judgement. 

“Granted.” 

“Dr McKay...he’s an ass, sir, but if he’s your ass…well…his personal wellbeing and safety is my immediate concern. Until you tell me  otherwise, I’m assigning a security detail.” 

“He’s not so much my ass…” 

“As you say, sir,” says Bates, but John can tell he doesn’t believe him. 

Kate comes out and motions John back to Beckett’s office. “Well, it looks like everyone is here,” she says. “First and foremost, Rodney has consented to free discussion among us. I know confidentiality tends to be more of a formality when it comes to gate teams and physical injuries, but it still applies in my profession.” 

“Is he alright?” asks Elizabeth. 

“Yes and no,” replies Kate. “He’s in shock. He can remember arriving on the planet, searching for energy signatures and signs of habitation, he can’t remember where he went or how he got there, but he does remember Sergeant Stackhouse finding him. Whatever happened while he was missing, he’s blanking it out.” 

"God," says Elizabeth. "When he didn't make the  debrief, I thought he just got caught up in the lab. You know how he can be."

“How long till he remembers?” asks John. 

“There’s no way to know," says Kate. "It could be hours or days, weeks even.” 

“If Rodney is unable to provide any more information, perhaps we should return to M3X-577,” says Teyla. 

“The mountain where Stackhouse found him. We could take a jumper, sir, check it out,” says Ford. 

“It’s as good a place to start as any,” says John. 

“All right,” says Elizabeth. “Take Dr Zelenka with you.” 

***

Rodney is sitting on the bed against the headboard. John goes in and sits in front of him. 

“Major.” 

“Hey Rodney, how are you?” 

“Better now that I’ve talked to Heightmeyer. Things got a bit…” Rodney waves his arm around vaguely. 

“Yeah. I was there.” 

“Oh god,” Rodney puts his head in his hands. John can see the flush spreading up his neck. “Can we maybe forget this embarrassing little episode?” 

“Hey, what’s a little freak out between friends?” 

“Sheppard…” 

“C’mon Rodney. You saw me get the world’s nastiest hickey from the local version of a deer tick. I’ve bled all over your boots…” 

Rodney looks up at this. “Don’t remind me.” 

“Remember the cell on M2Y-525? Two weeks without plumbing.” They both shudder at the thought. “This? It doesn’t even register. I gotta ask buddy, anything you remember?” 

“I already told Heightmeyer, I don’t really…” 

“Start at the beginning. We went through the gate…” 

“What do you want me to say? It was a planet much like every other planet we’ve visited. Grasslands, forests, mountains. Looks a lot like British Colombia. No signs of life. We walked around a while. You were doing your Man in Black thing, Ford was doing an impression of a Jack Russell and Teyla was talking to the animals or meditating or singing or something, I don’t know. I started getting some strange energy readings then…darkness.” 

“Okay, worth a…” 

“No, I mean literal darkness. I couldn’t see.” 

“Well, that’s a start. Wait, back up. Strange energy readings?” 

“Geo-magnetic irregularities. Nothing dramatic, just a little off.” 

“Okay, I’ll ask Zelenka to keep an eye out. You said you couldn’t see. Blindness or lack of light?” 

“I don’t know. Lack of light, I think?” 

“Hot or cold?” 

“Cold, definitely cold.” 

“Underground but…up the mountain? In a cave maybe?” 

“How should I know? Do I look like an Ordnance Survey map?” 

“Well, you do have delightful topography,” jokes John. 

Rodney sighs. “Yes, yes, very funny Major.” 

“Well, alright then. We’re going back to M3X-577 to take a look around. I’ll see you when we get back.” 

***

The Stargate on M3X-577 is on a stone platform in the centre of flat grassland; dense, chest high, golden stalks swaying in the wind edged with evergreen forest and mountains to the North and East. A person could easily hide or get lost in it if they crouched. But John doesn’t believe for a second that Rodney left them of his own volition, and he certainly didn’t hurt himself. The scans show no life signs, but the scans also failed to find the Genii bunker so he’s not taking that as gospel. 

“I am detecting the irregularities Rodney mentioned,” says Zelenka. “Fluctuating disturbances in planet’s magnetic field. But not from solar emissions, it is a local phenomenon.” 

From this vantage point, John can see for miles around the Stargate. The meadow looks like a golden lake, currents swelling all around, light reflecting off the grass in ripples. Then suddenly a familiar blue glow appears in the grass. 

“What was that?” asks Teyla. 

“Major, can you bring up the puddlejumper sensors?” asks Zelenka. 

John activates the display. “Doc, is that…?” 

“A miniature wormhole? It looks like it.” 

“That explains how Dr McKay disappeared,” says Ford. “We wouldn’t have been able to see that on foot.” 

“Yes, yes, but this does not tell us where he went,” says Zelenka, studying the display. 

“Are wormholes possible without a Stargate?” asks Teyla. 

“Wormholes can exist in nature, but they are not stable and usually subatomic. We would not be able to see them. I would guess these are artificial but not controlled. An experiment, perhaps?” 

“Well, who do we know who likes to tinker with the space-time continuum?” asks John. 

“The Ancients,” answers Ford. 

John takes the ‘jumper to where Rodney was found. A path is visible from above, from the edge of the grass through the forest and up the mountain. 

“There is a trail,” says Teyla. “Sergeant Stackhouse did not mention a trail.” 

“Why is that significant?” asks Ford. 

“Where there is a path, there are people, Aiden,” explains Teyla patiently. “It is interesting that there is no trail leading from here to the Stargate. For most peoples in this galaxy the Stargate is an important part of their civilization.” 

“Perhaps the field of wormholes make the trip hazardous,” says Zelenka. 

“Whatever the explanation, we’re not here for a meet and greet,” says John. “Let’s see where this trail ends.” 

He flies the jumper along the trail. It leads to a cave a couple of klicks up the base of the mountain. The treeline is far enough away that he can land right in front of the opening. It’s overgrown and if they hadn’t been looking for it, John might not have noticed it at all. 

***

From the inside, it’s clear the cave is man-made; the ground is perfectly level and the walls are far smoother than anything Mother Nature could have formed. John can already feel the faint hum of ancient technology pulling at him, welcoming him. He thinks on and the walls illuminate sluggishly. It feels much like Atlantis did when they first arrived; lonely. Ford and Teyla keep their weapons ready and Zelenka consults his hand-held scanner periodically as they explore the cave. Though it is clear no one with the Ancient gene has been here for a long time, there are multiple fresh footprints in the dirt, which is marked from regular foot traffic. 

A few hundred meters in, the cave comes to an end and in the faux stone wall is an Ancient doorway propped open with large rocks. John shines the light on his P90 through the gap and checks the room is clear before entering. The room is of similar construction to various rooms in Atlantis, familiar consoles ring the outer edge and a holographic platform in the centre, but unlike Atlantis, there are signs of more primitive civilization everywhere. Candles are burning all around the room, flame light flickers shadows onto the walls, straw pallets are dotted around draped in furs, and uneaten food dropped haphazardly on the floor. Primitive tools lay on the consoles, some of which have been pried apart, crystals kicked into corners. There are several more doors, all of which have been pried open and propped apart with various objects. 

It looks like the room was only just abandoned, and though he can’t hear anyone moving, John feels like the room is holding its breath, waiting for them to make a move. Zelenka goes to the nearest console. 

“Major, can you turn this on for me?” 

John asks the room to activate and it does. Most of the consoles stay dead but a few of them light up. Ford and Teyla check all the doorways for life while John and Zelenka check the consoles. 

“This is a laboratory,” says Zelenka. “Wormhole research. They were trying to master wormhole technology free from a Stargate, and they were partially successful.” He taps some commands into the console and brings up a 3D map of the local area on the holographic platform. “Looks like they managed to initiate them, but were unable to control the precise location of the event horizon.” 

“And they’re still being formed?” asks John. 

“Yes, something is still running, has been for thousands of years,” says Zelenka. “They are forming intermittently in the area around the Stargate.” 

“Perhaps this is why the people who live here do not use the Stargate,” says Teyla. “They have seen people disappear into nothing as they approach it.” 

“It is low on power though, very few wormholes can be formed now,” says Zelenka. 

“Can you turn it off?” asks John. 

Zelenka taps a few commands. “Done, Major.” 

“What now, sir?” asks Ford. 

“We need to find out if this is where Rodney…” As John says Rodney’s name, the holographic platform brings up a new image. 

_ A distorted event horizon appears in the corner of a room and vanishes as Rodney steps out. He looks around trying to take in his surroundings but it’s too dark to see anything. He taps his earpiece. “Um…Major?...  _ _ Teyla _ _ ?...Ford?” He holds his hands out and fumbles around until he feels a wall, then uses that wall to guide him. As he walks along, a warm glow appears ahead of him. It’s a doorway, and Rodney steps through. _ __

_ A group of people inhabit the room, some sleeping peacefully on straw palettes others eating or using tools, all dressed in furs with braided hair. Those that are awake turn to look at him. _ __

_ “Hello? Uh…I’m Dr Rodney McKay PhD. PhD. of Atlantis. I come in peace?”  _

_ Someone yells, waking up those that are asleep. _ __

_ Rodney is grabbed by many hands, stripped of his gear and clothing and pinned down, naked, on a platform in the centre of the room. _ __

_ “What _ _ are you…why are you…Let me go!”  _

_ He struggles against them, bucking and twisting, he gets a leg free and kicks. It connects with someone’s face and they stagger back, away from the crowd. A man, much taller and broader than the rest of them enters the frame and jumps up onto the platform, braids hanging down his back. He stands with his bare feet on either side of Rodney’s waist and crouches down. He speaks to Rodney but the language is unfamiliar. John can’t understand what he’s saying and it’s clear that neither can Rodney. The man sits down, straddling Rodney as a lover might, grips Rodney’s hips hard with both hands to stop him bucking, and talks again. _ __

_ “I don’t understand,” says Rodney. “Who are you people, what do you want with me?”  _

_ Rodney’s still struggling against the hands holding him down, but he can’t buck anymore. The man moves his hands onto Rodney’s chest and speaks again. It looks so bizarre; if John didn’t already know how it ended he might think it an embarrassing ritual.  _

_ The man presses a finger into Rodney’s chest, digging deep and holding it there. _ __

_ “Hey! That hurts! What’s the meaning of this?!” _ __

_ “As far as torment goes, sir, this is pretty tame,” says Ford. John can see why it might seem benign to a naive young Lieutenant, but he knows it’s no laughing matter. Torture always starts like this, indignity and ceremony. Builds up, not in a way that makes it more tolerable but in a way that makes it more horrifying. Once you’ve proven that things will keep getting worse, it doesn’t take long for your target to fill in the blanks of all the things you could do to them and torture themselves for you. He doesn’t say anything to Ford, he knows the young man is about to get a crash course in the destruction of a person, and nothing John could say to him will compare to what he will see. He hates Ford a little for his callousness, but he recognises that his own response left the friendship zone three clicks South West and eight hours ago when Rodney first disappeared. _ __

_ The finger pressing continues, longer and harder each time, and in minutes Rodney is begging with the man - “Please, stop! Why are you doing this?” - but he keeps going; asking unintelligible questions then pressing his fingers in. Rodney is screaming now, and John can’t bear to look, but he owes it to Rodney not to flinch away, to take note of every tear, every scream, every ragged breath. He feels his heart beating throughout his body, his pulse a steady ‘kill-them…kill-them...’. He tightens his grip on his P90 against the rising swell of rage, tries to stamp it down for when it will be useful, but it’s starting to overwhelm him. _ __

_ Rodney’s twisting so hard he gets a hand free, and he grabs desperately at the edge of the platform for leverage. Suddenly the whole thing lights up, glowing blue. The people holding him down flinch away and the man throws himself off. They all bow low, right down to the ground, prostrating themselves before Rodney. The man speaks again, obviously pleading, but Rodney curls up on himself and shakes with each heaving sob. Someone brings his clothes and gear, leaves them at his feet. They’re trying to make amends, clearly the ancient gene is significant to them, but Rodney doesn’t look at them, just dresses slowly and gears up. When he holsters his side arm, John screams in his head “Shoot them, Rodney! Shoot every fucking last one of them!” but Rodney stumbles out of frame leaving them all on the ground grovelling, not looking back. _ __

Teyla’s hands are shaking, her P90 rattling against the strap. Ford looks at John, tears in his eyes and a small sob escaping his lips. John can’t bring himself to speak. He doesn’t trust himself not to say anything incriminating. He could order them to search the facility from top to bottom, round up the people from the video so he can shoot them all in the head. God, he could just ask them. He knows Teyla and Ford would do it if he asked, would turn a blind eye if he did it alone, and Zelenka is no stranger to vengeance. He wants to so bad; it’s impossibly hard for him not to, but they know what happened, and that’s why they came. If they knew what had been said to Rodney, what was going on, it would be different, he’d be able to seek retribution, but there are so many unknowns. He’s conflicted, and part of it is he’s not sure what Rodney would want him to do. When Rodney dressed he’d been armed. If he’d wanted them dead god knows he had enough bullets on him to massacre them. But some of those hands had belonged to children, and John can’t help but think the sudden appearance of a stranger in their midst must have been terrifying for people who’ve never used a Stargate. 

“I downloaded the recording,” says Zelenka quietly. “We should isolate the speech and send it to Dr Corrigan. He might be able to translate it.” 

They hear a noise behind them and turn to see the man, in the flesh, stepping through a door. John, Ford and Teyla raise their weapons and he pauses in the doorway. John’s heart beats a military tattoo as he takes aim the man’s head, firm pressure on the trigger. He’s never felt so much rage. _This man hurt Rodney, he tortured him and he has to pay._ Teyla quickly takes one hand off her P90 and, without taking her eyes off the man, gently lowers his aim. 

“John,” she says, without reprimand. She knows. Of course she does, she’s Teyla. 

Teyla lowers her weapon and steps forward. “I am Teyla Emmagen, daughter of Tagan, of the people of Athos.” 

“Ah-thoz,” says the man. 

Teyla smiles. “We mean you no harm.” 

“We don’t?” says Ford. _ Good kid.  _

“We do not, Aiden.” 

The man gestures at a door to their right and a teenage boy comes through holding something wrapped in furs. Aiden targets the newcomer. “Sir?” 

“Do not be alarmed Aiden,” says Teyla. “They do not wish us harm either.” 

The boy approaches and holds out the bundle. Zelenka steps forward to take it. 

“Be careful, doc,” says Ford. 

“It is fine, see?” Zelenka takes the bundle and steps back. 

The man and the boy both bow down low and John can see more people peering through the open doorways, eyes wide, following their movements. 

“Let’s go,” says John. He trusts Teyla’s instincts, but it’s bad practise to remain in such a vulnerable position, and though Teyla’s intervened once, he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep from gunning down the man for much longer. 

Back in the jumper, Zelenka unwraps the bundle and drops the furs in surprise. “A drone!” 

“Never have enough of those,” says Ford. 

As they secure the drone, John sits in the pilot’s chair and starts up the jumper. He can feel his anger pulsing through his body, crackling at his fingertips as he grips the controls. Teyla takes the co-pilot seat. “John,” she begins. 

“Leave it,” replies John. He doesn’t mean to snap at her, but he’s filled with rage and has nowhere to channel it. They remain in silence for the trip back, John knows his tension is palpable and he tries to rein it in before he has to speak to Elizabeth. 

***

The debrief is perfunctory; _wormholes_ and _natives_ and _recording_ and _gift_ and John growls - _it’s about time we made full medical checks mandatory after every off world mission_ \- and Elizabeth acquiesces - _yes, absolutely, Major, we can’t always assume that everyone is able to assess their own wellbeing_ \- and John still feels like throwing his chair through the glass partition to her office, so he makes his excuses. Teyla and Zelenka stay behind to elaborate when John and Ford leave, Ford to the mess hall and John for a run. He pushes himself harder and faster, takes corners without slowing down, people jumping out of his way, until he runs out of pavement on the South West pier. He isn’t surprised to find Rodney sitting at the end, feet dangling over the edge and a tablet in hand. There are bruises peeking out from under his sleeve and his collar. He looks up as John approaches. 

“Hey Sheppard,” he says. 

“Hey Rodney.” 

John sits down next to him out of breath, closer than he knows he should, but he can’t help it. Rodney is here and safe and solid and not screaming. His legs are gently kicking, he never sits still, and with each swing his knee pushes into John’s. 

“Dr Biro just sent me a report on Wraith physiology. Do you know why Wraith teeth are all canines? They eat souls, not animal flesh, so it seems a bit redundant. Unless they do eat flesh but no one knows, or maybe they used to eat flesh and the teeth are vestigial…” 

“Could be.” 

“…the thing is, when I have nightmares about them it’s always about their teeth, never about their hands. Maybe we’re hard wired to be afraid of sharp teeth. Feeding organs on hands is a bit out there. Maybe my subconscious just can’t accept them as a genuine threat.” 

“If anyone has a healthy intuition for threats, it’s you.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I’ve had a busy evening. It turns out there was a malfunction in the water supply. The whole of the floor where my quarters are had either showers that didn’t turn on or showers that couldn’t be turned off. Sergeant Bates asked me to take a look. Miko thought they were haunted but it only took me 20 minutes to diagnose and fix them.” 

“That’s great buddy.” 

“Speaking of Bates, he’s been kind of hanging around a lot today. You wouldn’t know why, would you?” Rodney squints at John. 

Nope, not going there. “Doing his job, most likely.” 

“Right, cause I’m such a security threat.” Rodney pauses. “Well, actually, if I wasn’t such a stand-up guy I’d be the biggest security threat, if we’re talking extent of damage not number of kills.” 

John laughs out loud at this, louder than Rodney’s comment warrants, but it’s been such a fucking shitty day and it’s so damn good to hear Rodney being Rodney despite what he went through. 

“I’m fine, Sheppard,” says Rodney, as though he can read his mind, hear his thoughts. “Really, it’s just bruises.” 

“It’s not just bruises, it’s never just bruises, Rodney, Jesus.” 

“John…” 

“We saw...what they did…what he did… there’s a recording…” 

“I don’t need to see it,” Rodney quickly interrupts. “I talked with Heightmeyer for a while when you left and she helped me remember.” 

“I fucked up, Rodney. I let my guard down and I missed it and you disappeared. You walked into a fucking wormhole and they hurt you and I wasn’t there. They could have killed you. I should have been there. I’m…” 

“Major, I swear to god, if you  apologise, I’ll push you off the pier.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“What, push you?” 

“Swear to god.” John laughs. “Which god?” 

“All of them,” says Rodney and he smiles. 

They sit in companionable silence and watch the sun setting. John listens to the waves crashing against Atlantis, thinks about the day. He’s glad he didn’t kill anyone. Not that they didn’t deserve it, but he knows now it’s not what Rodney would have chosen and it’s Rodney’s choice that matters, not John’s anger. He had an idea back on the planet, but he wasn’t certain, and he realises that Teyla knew; she knows Rodney so well, knows them all so well. He turns to tell Rodney this and is surprised to see Rodney looking at him, considering. His legs have stopped swinging and he is totally still for the first time since John met him. 

“John,” Rodney whispers. 

“Yeah, Rodney?” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Sure buddy.” 

“Carpe Diem.” 

Rodney leans in and John’s heart skips a beat, he can feel Rodney’s breath ghosting his lips and he opens his mouth, just a little bit, just enough, and then Rodney’s lips are on his and Rodney’s hands are in his hair and all his rage dissipates and it’s bliss. Rodney is warm and soft and real and safe and solid and still not screaming, and as Rodney pushes him down to the ground he thinks Teyla wouldn’t be surprised about this either.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:
> 
> This is a Rodney Whump fic with some moderate torture. 
> 
> There is a fairly intense non-sexual (but still non-con) physical contact torture scene involving a naked Rodney held down by a large group of people while another man straddles him and hurts him for information. 
> 
> There is no rape or sexual assault or anything of that nature intended in this story but some parts of this could be triggering regardless. Please use your best judgement. Your happiness and safety is important!


End file.
